


Illusion

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Heavy - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Psychosis, References to Depression, Schizophrenia, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Tags May Change, but mostly in flashbacks, first chapter this goes down, i cannot stress this enough guys, just heavy, this is not a very happy fic guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Connor and Markus are in love.And then, Connor dies.But there's more to it than just that.





	Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> HEED THE TAGS. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH YOU GUYS. YOUR HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THIS FIC.
> 
> I spent three months on this and made my heart clench in hurt twice. I'm gonna work on the next chapter of I Am Not A Robot next and it'll probably be very long.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name by VNV Nation. I was inspired to write this by the game Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice and if you haven't heard of it I highly recommend you check it out. It deals a lot with grief and mental health, mainly psychosis in the form of schizophrenia. With that being said, I based my writing on how it is displayed in the game (which had mental health experts to consult), the little bit we covered in my AP Psych class, and what i found from mental health sites and blogs on schizophrenia. If I am in any way portraying something poorly then please tell me. I want to be as accurate as possible without playing into harmful stereotypes.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Depiction of schizophrenia, suicidal thoughts, suicide

              The night air is cool against his face and Connor takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe it in despite having no need for it.

              “Connor?”

              He opens his eyes, looks down. Sees the lit street eight stories below him.

              He turns his head.

              “Markus.”

              Connor turns around fully to face the man, the ledge he stands upon giving him an extra two feet of height. He looks down at Markus, takes in his panicked and concerned expression. He’s got on a green t-shirt under a dark jacket and dark jeans, running shoes on his feet. It’s a sharp contrast to Connor’s loose black tee and joggers, hair sleep mussed and feet bare.

              They stare at each other for a moment, Markus’ gaze fearful and unsure, Connor’s calm and almost casual as his LED spins an easy blue. As if he weren’t standing on the ledge on the roof of their apartment building moments away from stepping off.

              A particularly cold breeze blows by, breaking whatever pause they were in.

              “I got your message.” Markus tells him. He looks like he wants to take a step forward, to pull Connor down and into his arms, but afraid that any movement will send him over the edge.

              The corner of Connor’s mouth twitches upward into a grin as he responds, “Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here. Took your time getting here though.”

              “Connor,”

              A step forward.

              “What are you doing?”

              The brunet quirks a brow. “I thought it’d be pretty clear as to what I’m doing.”

              It’s the wrong thing to say, Markus’ skyrocketing stress levels testifying to that. Connor frowns at that, brows creasing as his LED spins yellow. “Mind your stress, love.”

              There’s a strangled sound from the darker man followed by an aborted step forward. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

              He reaches his arms out, as if to grab Connor, takes another step. Connor sighs, shaking his head as he says, “You can come over here. Where you are isn’t going to change anything, I’ve already made up my mind.”

              Markus purposefully ignores the latter part of his statement, instead choosing to cautiously take a step forward. He watches Connor the entire time, as if afraid that he’s being fooled, and his next step will send the other man off the edge.

              Connor huffs, exasperated as he reaches his hand out, “ _Markus._ ”

              It’s almost comical at how Markus nearly sprints across the rooftop to grab at that hand. Connor does laugh when he goes to pull him down however, a humorless little chuckle that’s more of a breath than anything.

              “I never said I was coming down, love.” he whispers above the wind.

              Markus swallows.

              “Why?”

              And isn’t that the million-dollar question? Why is he up here? What compelled him to leave their bed so suddenly at three in the morning and stand on this ledge? Why did he message Markus, asking him to come up here? Why did he _wait_ for him?

              Connor can see all these and more in his love’s eyes. So many questions, so little time.

              Instead a gives a little smile, his eyes sad as he runs his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “I’m sick, Markus.”

              “I know you are, babe.” he says, “But you’re getting better—”

              “No, I’m not.” At this he averts his eyes, looking down at their intertwined hands instead. “I just got better at hiding it. I’m _dying_ , Markus. I’m getting worse and worse and I’m tired of it.”

              The smile has faded by the time he whispers, “I’m so tired.”

              It’s quiet for a moment, the revolutionary seeming to search for the right response before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “You have more important things to do, to worry about Markus. You can’t afford to waste your time on one unfixable android when there are thousands of others you _can_ help.”

              “But you’re not just one android, Connor!” Markus shouts.

              And he’s angry. Angry in the same way he gets whenever Connor downplays himself, thinks himself less than others and less deserving of anything and everything good. The type of anger that’s not actually anger but sadness and concern and frustration all rolled up into one.

              “You’re important to _me_. You’re the one that I love and will always love and caring about you and worrying about you comes with that.” Markus’ eyes are blazing when Connor faces him again. Though they soften when he tells him, “You’re just as important to me as any other android, if not more. So please, just…just come down.”

              The RK800 stares at him, searching his eyes for something that the other prototype hopes he finds before the slighter man sighs. He moves, not to step down ( _Nor to step off the edge_ , Markus’ mind supplies with relief), but to sit down instead. This puts them at more even level so that they are face to face now. Connor leans forward, burying his head in the crook of his lover’s shoulder, eyes closed. “I love you so much.” he mumbles.

              Markus waits, because he’s known him long enough to know he’s not done.

              “I love you so much and I don’t want to leave you. But I have to. I _have_ to because if I don’t then you’ll only end up hurt or worse and it’ll be my fault. I can’t stop them now and I wouldn’t be able to stop them then and I’d rather _I_ die than _you_ or anyone else I care about.”

              As he spoke his hands, which the other had gripped in his own, were clenching Markus’ tightly and his eyes were squeezed shut. A few tears leaked out and the elder could feel his shirt growing damp as his partner bit back the sobs that were clawing their way up his throat. At his words his calm demeanor had shifted as his stress levels kicked up, LED spinning yellow as it flashed red every now and again.

              Markus pries his hands from Connor’s to pull him closer, to properly embrace him and Connor is all too willing to let him. As soon as he does the brunet is grasping at him; his shoulders, his arms, his front, before they settle to grip at his waist. They sit that way for a moment, just holding each other as the night air blows by. Its only when Markus moves to pull Connor off the ledge that he is pushed away.

              “ _No_ , Markus I can’t—they’ll _kill_ you and I _can’t stop them_ I have to, have to-to-to-”

              “Connor— _Connor!_ ” Markus reaches through the almost flailing limbs and struggled attempts to stand and grabs at the brunet’s face, cupping it in his hands. “ _Who?_ Who is going to hurt me?”

              Connor stops when the RK200 touches him to face him, eyes blue rimmed and cheeks wet. At the question however he looks down and away, a humorless laugh escaping him. “I don’t even know.” he whispers.

              “I don’t even _know_ , Markus.” His hands come up to grasp at the man’s forearms, a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on his face when he turns back to face him. “It could be me, it could be them, fuck, it could even be _her_ for all I know but I _don’t_. _I don’t even know!_ ”

              He’s ducked his head again, looking at the ground but this time Connor is shaking his head as his shoulders shudder with both tears and laughter. His hands are gripping Markus’ arms tight like a drowning man does a lifesaver. Markus steps forward to stand between his legs, raising the man’s head so that he’s facing him again. He wipes away the tears and leans forward to press a kiss against his forehead. He rests his head against the slighter man’s as he asks, “Can you tell me who ‘them’ is?”

              Connor blinks, LED still spinning yellow as he seems to think for a moment. “I—I don’t…”

              He struggles for a minute before his LED suddenly flares red and he flinches as if struck, whispering, “ _I can’t_.”

              Though Markus knows there’s more to this, can read it clearly in those glassy brown eyes and furrowed brows, the way he grips him tight. So, he asks, “Can you show me?”

              Connor sniffles, eyes glancing off to the side as he says, “I don’t want to.”

              But even as he tells him so, his right hand is sliding up to clasp at Markus’ own, still cupping his face. Markus moves his hand to properly hold Connor’s, fingers lacing together as their faux skin peels back to reveal gleaming white plastic. Markus initiates the interface and is almost immediately sucked into memories.

              It’s very clear that there is nothing _good_ in these memories.

              It’s quick flashes of Connor chopping vegetables in Hank’s kitchen as he grits through his teeth for them to shut up, shut up, _shut up—_

              Walking Sumo down the road before everything goes dark and when he can see again he’s in an unfamiliar part of town, the Saint Bernard sitting on the ground in front of him and whimpering—

              Hugging his knees in the bathtub at four in the morning as the shower pours ice cold water on his body, system errors flashing warnings about overheating as he tells them to _stop laughing_ —

              Walking to a park at night with Sumo again but when they arrive it’s suddenly a blizzard with snow whipping every which way and he’s alone apart from a dark-skinned woman, malice in her eyes as she speaks with such contempt, such condescension as she welcomes him back—

              Connor curled up alone and covering his ears, sobbing and begging, _pleading_ , for them to _stop, please, stop just leave me alone—_

              The memories go on but what’s worse is what Markus isn’t seeing, experiencing, but what he’s _hearing._

              He hears voices that all sound like Connor, but with different tones, something that says that they could pass as Connor’s voice but actually aren’t.

              They are there constantly there, overlapping each other and bouncing around in his head. A whisper in his left ear, a shout in the back of his head on the right, coming from all sides and in different volumes, languages even. They are not always there at the same time, sometimes only one or three of them. Very rarely do they leave him, leave his headspace quiet and empty with nothing but his own thoughts. It’s obvious how much those moments are cherished.

              Even now, the memories abruptly cut off and he’s staring at Connor on the rooftop again, but the interface doesn’t disconnect as he hears what those voices are saying _now._

_“Who is that? Who’s there? Who are you?”_

_“There’s someone new.”_

_“Can you stop him?”_

_“You’re different, who are you?”_

_“Stop him, stop him, you have to_ stop him— _”_

_“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”_

_“You don’t belong here, get out.”_

_“No don’t go you have to stop him first, please.”_

_“He can’t help him._ No one _can help him.”_

_“What’s the point of showing him if he won’t get down?”_

_“Why is he showing him? Why is he showing him?”_

_“You don’t belong here. Get. Out.”_

_“You’re not supposed to know we’re here! No one can know!”_

_“You’re an IDIOT. A pathetic FOOL. Why would you show him to us?”_

_“Get out get out get out get out get out—”_

_“LEAVE! LEAVE US!”_

_“YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!”_

_“GET! OUT!”_

              It devolves into a cacophonous mess until they’re all shouting at Markus, screaming over each other until it becomes too much, becomes too overwhelming and he can’t hear anything but the voices. He ends up forcibly wrenching his hand away to end the interface, stumbling back a step as he breathes heavily.

              If he still had his LED he’s sure it would be burning red and spinning erratically, his system warning him of his dangerously high stress levels. And there’s more, there’s even _worse_ because every time he closes his eyes he still sees those words, large and glaring red and always there.

**C̢̨͉͈̻̘͉͓̳̏̊̎̔͛ơ̤̻̯̺͎̘͖͆̃̾̚͝r̷̫̮̝͎͇̥̙̟̍̏̊͗͆̊͆͝͡͝r̸̢͙͎̙̭̹̤̂͂͊͠͝ư̷̳͕͖̩͓̰͍̊̄̒͟͡ṗ̢̠̠̺͍͙̳̪͍̐́͌̏͒̔͢͝͠t̝͍̭̬̱̜͚̖̑̉̿̉̊i̧̯̟̯̟̤͂̉̾͒͂̍͘͞o̡̧͙̱͉͓̱͒̾́̅̚̚ṉ͉̹̩̼̳̖̪̀̑̎̽͌͞ Ļ͉̬̝̱͚͓̘̬̏̋̀̊̓̏̚͡è̸̩͎̺̺͙̺̠͊̓̋͠v̴̨̛̻̹̙̺̣̤̭̐͗̓̒͒̀͘͜e̶̙̠͔͍͉͊͒̾̾̆̒͢͠ļ̢̰̘̯̱̬͇̪̟́̉̌͆: ̢̹͓͚̻̒̐̒̌́̕͞ 9̶͔̳̳͙̝̬̄̎̇̀̈̄̽͞7̴̧̥̪̹̣̥͈͊̇̂̕͡%̭̱͍̫̘̃̃̏̆̏͗̈̄̔̚͜**

**System Reboot in 01:42:17**

**Imminent Shutdown in 03:59:23**

              Markus raises his head to look back at Connor, stress levels finally back at a manageable level. Connor for his part looks like he wants to reach out, to comfort him but is afraid to do so, arms instead falling limply in his lap.

              “Why—” Markus chokes out (when did he start crying?), “ _Why didn’t you tell me?”_

              The detective flinches, head turned away in shame as his arms come up to hug himself.

              “I was tired of you worrying.”

              He’s tired of a lot of things it seems.

              “So, what? You were just going to let everyone think you were fine, you were getting _better_ and then you’d just _die_?”

              The darker man takes a step forward, angry now and what the fuck this is _not_ how you talk someone down from the ledge what the hell is he doing.

              Connor keeps his head turned, lips pressed together. His LED has gone yellow.

              Another step forward.

              “ _Were_ you?”

              “I don’t know.” He finally sighs out, a humorless laugh escaping him as he says, “I didn’t entirely think it through.”

              “Yeah, the _one_ time you don’t think something through.” And there’s a joke in there because Connor is _always_ the one who takes the time to think about something and weigh the pros and cons before making any decision. But it comes out too bitter, too anguished and ends up sounding more like a jab than anything and rA9 _above_ where are all his pretty and hopeful words now just shut up shut up _shut up._

              Connor’s jaw clenches before he shakes his head, “I don’t want the last thing we do together be a fight.”

              “This is _not_ going to be our last conversation.” They’re closer now, Markus standing between Connor’s legs again.

              “I’m not going to get better, love.”

              “We’ll find a way.”

              “There’s not enough time.”

              “Then why can’t you spend the rest of it with me?”

              “That reboot means they can hurt you.”

              “You don’t know that.”

              “You don’t know they won’t either.”

              “Connor _please_.”

              Markus is gripping his lover’s shoulders now, head bowed as he trembles. The other man’s arms come up to encircle him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

              “I’m going to die tonight no matter what, is it so bad that I want it to be on my own terms?”

              “When your ‘own terms’ include throwing yourself off the roof then _yes_ it’s _‘so bad.’_ ”

              “If I’m dead before the reboot then no one else gets hurt.”

              Markus lets go of his shoulders to wrap his arms around him instead, holding tight because he knows this man too well. Knows that when he gets that edge to his voice, that _look_ in his eyes, that he’s made up his mind and no one or thing will stop him.

              And that hurts more than anything because _Markus can’t stop him._

              They sit that way for a moment, quiet and at a standstill on what to do.

              “Hey.”

              It’s Connor who breaks it.

              “Remember the first time we went to the beach?”

              Markus pauses, trying to understand where the sudden topic came from. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

              He looks up and there’s a hand being offered to him, synthetic skin peeled back to show the white plastic underneath.

_Oh._

              There’s a little smile on Connor’s face and Markus is quick to reach his hand up and establish a connection.

              This time there are no heartbreaking memories or tortuous voices this time, just the sound of waves crashing onto the shore and the sight of Connor pulling him into the water.

              This is one of the memories Markus treasure the most.

              They had taken a trip out to Grand Haven, all the Jericho leaders plus Kara’s and her family and Hank and Sumo. As he relives the memory with Connor he can hear the great dog’s barks behind him and the others playing volleyball while Hank referees, can see Kara and Luther further ahead in the water, Alice atop his great shoulders.

              But his attention zeroes back in on Connor, on how bright his smile was and the joy in his eyes as he continued to pull him deeper into the water. He’s laughing, not paying attention as he walked backwards. He looked so _happy._

_Healthy._

              “Wait wait wait, Connor slow down!”

              Right, they were talking. There was more than just Connor’s radiant face, shining brighter than the sun behind him.

              “Well hurry up maybe!”

              “Angel, if you don’t pay attention to where you’re going you’re gonna fall.” He had laughed.

              Connor blushed at the petname but rolled his eyes at the rest of the sentence, said him, “Please, as ‘Cyberlife’s most advanced model’ I was designed to have more spatial awareness.” It’s a blatant tease, followed by a wink.

              One that would have been smoother had he not slipped and went tumbling backward immediately after, a yelp making it out of his mouth.

              Markus would’ve laughed if he hadn’t gone down with him thanks to Connor’s iron grip.

              For a moment he was under water, everything muffled and tinted blue-green before he surfaced. He’s facing the beach now, and he allowed himself the time to make sure no one saw that. Wouldn’t do for everyone to see the famous deviant leader eat shit.

              The relief at no one even paying remote attention to them was short lived at the sudden splash of cold water on his back. And _no_ , he did _not_ jump in surprise, _thank you very much._

              The RK200 spun around to see a drenched Connor, curly hair clinging to his head as he playfully glared at him.

              “The love of your life was almost lost to sea and you’re more concerned with your image. Shame.”

              “It’s two feet of water, Connor.”

              “ _Shame._ ”

              Markus snorted, “What ever happened to ‘Cyberlife’s most advanced model?’”

              That earned a spray of water to the face.

              A moment of sputtering later and the darker man was giving as good as he got, causing a splash large enough that made the RK800 jump back with a squeal. What started as an attempt to go deeper into the water turned into a splash fight still close to the shore, the two laughing like children.

              They carried on for a minutes before Connor slipped again, though this time Markus caught him easily. He pulled him close, arms wrapping around the other android’s waist as Connor’s reflexively linked behind his neck.

              “Hi.”

              Markus smiled, kissed the tip of his nose, “Hi.”

              “I love you.”

              “I love you too.” And then Connor was pressing kisses to his face.

              A kiss to his forehead, then his eyes, the green one, the blue one. On to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, before finally, _finally_ , those perfect lips were on his. They kissed each other with such passion, such _love_ , as if there was nothing but the two of them in the world.

              Only too soon was Connor pulling back, slipping out of his grasp and suddenly Markus isn’t at the beach holding his love close anymore, he’s back on the rooftop trying to talk him down and _Connor is slipping he can’t catch him Markus isn’t fast enough—_

_“I’m sorry.”_

              Connor falls.


End file.
